


Isn’t it ironic?

by vinterdrog



Category: The Social Network RPF
Genre: Angst, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-13
Updated: 2011-11-13
Packaged: 2017-11-03 18:49:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/384671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vinterdrog/pseuds/vinterdrog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life is really fucking ironic sometimes. Loosely based on some lines from Alanis Morissette’s song “Ironic”.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Isn’t it ironic?

**Author's Note:**

> This is for [](http://emymon.livejournal.com/profile)[**emymon**](http://emymon.livejournal.com/). This plot bunny attacked me, and I laughed my ass off at it, then I tried to get it out of my head by telling her about it, but I ended up with her nagging me about writing it instead. Blame her. It’s her fault, and I love her. Also thanks to my brilliant beta [](http://elefante-locura.livejournal.com/profile)[**elefante_locura**](http://elefante-locura.livejournal.com/)!

“Oh my God! Jesse, you’ve gotta listen to this!” Andrew sounds excited and horrified at the same time, and Jesse sticks his head out from the bathroom. They’re on a press tour, and sharing a hotel room, and Andrew is sitting on one of the beds with his laptop.

“What?” Jesse asks, and then turns his attention back to his cufflinks.

“There’s this old man, in Austin, and he bought a lottery ticket, right?” Andrew pauses, and waits for Jesse to acknowledge that he’s listening. Jesse nods, briefly, without looking up. “And he wins. Big, like, a _lot_ of money. And then the next day he _dies_!” Andrew still manages to sound both excited and horrified about this.

“That’s terrible,” Jesse says, finally managing to undo the cufflinks on his left wrist. He still has to do the right one, but Andrew looks up then, sees his struggle, and makes grabby motions with his hands.

“Come here, I’ll help.” Jesse walks over to the bed and gives Andrew his right wrist, and watches the computer screen while Andrew fiddles with the silver buttons. There’s a picture of the old man, and a picture of what seems to be his kid, holding a check with a lot of zeroes.

“That’s terrible,” Jesse repeats, and swallows when Andrews fingers brushes lightly against the thin skin on his wrist.

“Yeah,” Andrew agrees, “but isn’t it _ironic_?”

“No, it’s not,” Jesse says, and withdraws his hand now that Andrew has managed to undo his cufflinks. Finally, he slips out of the white dress shirt and reaches over to his bed for his worn t-shirt. “Irony is when you say something, but means the complete opposite,” he says, voice a bit muffled through the cotton over his head. “This incident is, if you really stretch the definition, the irony of fate, but it’s not _ironic_.” He emerges from the folds of his t-shirt, and looks at Andrew. “You really ought to learn the difference.”

* * *

“Jesse, are you alright?” Andrew knocks lightly on the bathroom stall door, but Jesse is too busy throwing up to answer. He guesses that Andrew can hear he’s not alright, anyway. “Oh.” Yes, he can practically _hear_ Andrew wincing.

“Do you... do you want me to get you anything? Like, a glass of water? Or a doctor? Are you dying?” Jesse sits back up then, on the heels of his feet, and wipes his mouth on a bit of toilet paper.

“I’m fine, Andrew,” he croaks through the door. Andrew tries to open the door, but fails, since it’s locked. Jesse flushes the toilet and unlocks the door. Andrew looks really worried, but his expression eases somewhat when he sees that Jesse’s standing, and not actually dying.  
“What happened?” he asks, and hovers close while Jesse rinses his mouth the best he can with tap water, splashes his face, and takes a couple of deep breaths.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to freak you out,” he says at last.

“I’m not freaking out,” is Andrew’s immediate reply, and Jesse smiles wryly.

“‘Are you dying?’,” he mimics, and Andrew does at least have the decency to blush. “It’s not a big deal,” Jesse continues before Andrew can defend himself. “It’s just... there was a fly, in my wine, and it...” he swallows thickly just at the thought, but there’s nothing left in him to throw up since they’re at dinner and still haven’t gotten their food yet. Not that Jesse wants to eat anything here now anyway. Andrew makes a disgusted face and looks a bit like he wants to throw up himself. Jesse can’t blame him.

“Yeah,” he says, acknowledging Andrew’s expression. Andrew nods.

“You want to get out of here?” he asks. “Go back to the hotel, grab some chinese, and watch _Cats_ instead?”

“Yes please,” Jesse says, relieved, and Andrew’s face lights up.

“Great! I’ll go tell the others, you can just go out and grab a cab, I’ll be right there!”

* * *

Between the press tour and the award season, two people from the film crew get married. And since they met on the set of _The Social Network_ , they’ve invited a big portion of the cast and crew. Jesse and Andrew are, of course, invited, and Andrew called to make sure Jesse was going before he RSVP-ed. Jesse tries to not read anything into it, but it’s hard not to. It is also hard to ignore the way Jesse is totally _obsessed_ with anything and everything Andrew does and says. He knows he has a crush. He’s had a crush since the second day of shooting and Andrew looked up from his script and _smiled_ at him, and he really needs to get his shit together and _nut up or shut up_ or whatever.

Anyway. They’re going to a wedding, and they’re going together. Not together-together, not as each other’s _plus one_ , but everyone knows they’re going to be hanging out together the whole time anyway, so yeah, they’re going to a wedding, together. Andrew looks brilliant in his suit, as always, and Jesse feels uncomfortable in his, as always. But then Andrew says,

“You look great,” and smiles, and Jesse really can’t do anything but smile back.

It’s nothing too fancy. There are a lot of people, sure, but it’s not a million-dollar budget wedding, and Jesse feels quite comfortable, after all. He knows most of the people, and that helps, and he has Andrew.

They’re in San Francisco, and the reception is at the beach. Jesse has taken off his shoes and socks, and his mother would probably berate him for it, but he’s seen several others do the same and the sand feels nice against his bare feet.

Andrew is away talking to some crew member he hasn’t seen since they wrapped, and Jesse’s mingling by himself. He spots Justin, and heads over, just in time for the reception to start. Andrew appears by his side as if by magic, and the three of them get seats together at the far left with Jesse in the middle.

There are clouds rolling in that are looking a bit heavy, but Jesse overheard a few people saying that the forecast promised no rain, so he tries to focus on Renée and Joel instead of the clouds.

He manages just fine, until it actually starts to rain. It’s just a few drops at first, and people are squirming in their seats and looking up at the sky but no one wants to be rude and actually go inside, so they all stay and hope it will go away. But then the rain starts smattering, and people are leaving their seats. There’s a couple of tents set up at the edges of the rows of seats, and since Jesse, Andrew and Justin are on the edge, they manage to get in under a thin roof before they get soaked. Jesse feels sorry for Renée and Joel, until he sees them still standing in the middle of the beach, arms outstretched, clutching each other’s hands and facing the rain. He nudges Andrew, points, and Andrew turns and smiles.

“It’s supposed to bring good luck if it rains on your wedding day,” someone says from their left side.

“It’s a bit ironic though, don’t you think,” Justin says, eyes on the couple. Jesse opens his mouth, but before he can get a word out -

“It’s not ironic. Irony is when you say something, but means the complete opposite,” Andrew says and smiles at Jesse, and Jesse can’t help but fall in love with him all over again.

“Yeah," he chimes in. “And I don’t even think this is irony of fate, since the rain is supposed to bring good luck and all.” Andrew laughs, and Justin glares, and Jesse knows he has to say something to Andrew soon, but now is not the time.

* * *

They are stuck in traffic. Jesse taps his fingers against the cab window impatiently.  
“Fucking fuckety fuck”, he curses under his breath and Andrew laughs at him.

“Calm down”, he says, and Jesse glares at him. They’re late for another award press thing _shit_ and Jesse is tired. He couldn’t sleep last night, because he had promised to come and meet Andrew at the airport, and that made him nervous. Andrew had been back home for two weeks, seeing his family, and Jesse missed him like crazy, but he can’t _tell_ him that. No sleep makes Jesse edgy, and he was so nervous about seeing Andrew again that he forgot to have breakfast, which means he’s Andrew deprived, sleep deprived, caffeine deprived and _late_. Which, basically, makes him ten times worse than Emma when she’s PMSing.

“People are late all the time,” Andrew tries, which earns him another glare. Jesse really doesn’t want to glare at Andrew when he’s just returned to the states, but he makes it really fucking hard not to.

“I’m never late,” he says. “I hate being late.”

“I know,” Andrew says, softly, reaching over to stroke Jesse’s hand. There’s nothing romantic about the gesture at all, Jesse knows that, Andrew is like this with all the people he’s ever met, but it still calms him down.

“I’m sorry,” he says, trying to smile but knows it ends up being more of a grimace. “But I really hate being late,” he says again, and adds “And I haven’t had any coffee yet.” Andrew arches an eyebrow.

“Why?” he asks. He knows, first hand, how malfunctioning Jesse is without coffee.

“Overslept,” Jesse lies, because apparently he’s better at lying without cringing when he feels like shit. Andrew looks out through the window, thoughtful, and then he leans over to ask the driver, “How long do you think we’ll be stuck?”

“At least for another ten minutes,” the driver replies, sounding really bored.

“Great!” says Andrew, and then he’s grabbing his coat and opens the door, and the driver twists around to stare at him at the same time as Jesse asks, “What are you _doing_?!” in a high-pitched voice.

Andrew grins and says, “I’ll be right back,” and then he crawls out of the cab, shuts the door, and crosses between the unmoving cars. Jesse follows him with his eyes until he’s lost in the sea of cars and people, and tries really hard not to bite on his nails while he waits for Andrew to come back.

Then, because Andrew is an angel sent from heaven, he appears with two Starbucks cups filled with steaming coffee, and hands one over to Jesse with a grin.

“My welcome back gift,” he says, and sips his coffee. The walk through the cold air has chilled the coffee down to an appropriate temperature, and Jesse gulps his down like he's been under water and starving for air.

“I thought _I_ was supposed to give _you_ a welcome back gift,” he says when the cup is half empty. Andrew shrugs.

“You needed this,” he says, and then the traffic is finally moving again, and Jesse really needs to come clean to Andrew soon, before his feelings eat his soul.

* * *

“Hey, Jesse?” Andrew calls from the bathroom.

“Yeah?” Jesse answers from the kitchen. They’re in New York, again, it’s the end of the award season, and Andrew is staying at Jesse’s so he won’t have to stay at yet another hotel.

“Can I borrow a pair of boxers? Mine are still wet, and I really hate wearing my dress pants without.” And _holy fuck_ Jesse’s brain goes into overload because one, Andrew wants to borrow his underwear and _Andrew in Jesse’s underwear_ and-. Yeah. It’s _Andrew_ in Jesse’s _underwear_ , and because two, that last part insinuates that Andrew actually has worn his dress pants without underwear, which is, like, not something Jesse should be thinking about right now, not when Andrew is still in his apartment. He knows he’s been silent for too long when Andrew calls, “Jesse? Is it okay? I’ll wash them before I return them and everything, you don’t have to worry, it’s just that all of mine are still wet, because of the rain, and...”

“Yeah, no,” Jesse interrupts, and swallows hard. “It’s okay, just... they’re in the top drawer in my bedroom, help yourself.”

“Thanks!” Andrew says from the bathroom and Jesse very pointedly has his back turned to the hallway when Andrew crosses it to get to Jesse’s bedroom. He doesn’t need to see Andrew until Andrew is fully clothed. He hears the shuffling of drawers and Andrew walking around and turns back to the food he’s cooking. He’s rifling through a drawer, trying to find the only sharp knife he owns so he can chop the onion, when he _smells_ Andrew walking into the kitchen. Jesse tries really hard not to take a deep breath, because that would just be weird.

It’s just, he’s just so _frustrated_ at not being able to express his feelings. Because if he could, then he could’ve just taken a deep breath, and inhaled Andrew’s scent, and turned around and hugged him because if he’d been able to express his feelings Andrew would _know_ how Jesse feels about him, and then he would be here because he felt the same way. Or he wouldn’t be here at all, but him being around and smelling and wearing Jesse’s underwear wouldn’t be a problem, so. He rifles through the drawer with more force than necessary, and Andrew’s coming over, Jesse can feel the body heat radiating from him.

“Are you mad at the drawer?” he asks, amusement evident in his voice.

“No,” Jesse snaps, and then rolls his eyes at himself. “Sorry, I’m just, I’m looking for a knife, and there’s just ten thousand goddamn fucking spoons in this drawer and I don’t know where the damn knife is.” Andrew places a gentle hand at the small of Jesse’s back, and it’s really quite ridiculous how that one touch makes him relax.

“Have you had any coffee today?” Andrew asks, still a bit amused, though Jesse can’t figure out why.

“Yes?” he says, because he has, but he fails to see how that’s relevant to anything, because it’s four in the afternoon and breakfast was hours ago and he’s had coffee since then anyway.

“Because usually you only swear this much when you haven’t had your coffee yet,” Andrew explains, still smiling, still holding his hand against the small of Jesse’s back, and Jesse can feel himself blushing but tries to ignore it. Yes, Andrew’s right, he swears more when he’s caffeine deprived, but also when he’s... sexually frustrated, or just, actually, frustrated at his own incapability at expressing his feelings, but that’s not something he’s ready to tell Andrew yet, except he _is_ ready, but now’s not really the time, and-

“Is this the one you’re looking for?” Andrew asks, holding up a knife. Jesse blinks.

“Yes,” he says. “Thank you.” He grabs it, puts his thoughts about feelings aside, and proceeds to make them omelets before they’re supposed to be at the red carpet.

* * *

Award season is over. The award season is over, the press tour is over, and unless they happen to work together in the future, none of the cast and crew ever have to see each other again. Jesse and Andrew don’t _have_ to see each other again, but Andrew’s on his way to New York to meet Jesse. He had a few days free between some Spider-Man thing and another, and when he asked if Jesse would like to see him if he went to New York well then _of course_ Jesse said yes. He’d be mad otherwise. And he has decided, he is actually going to do it this time, he’s going to tell Andrew how he feels. He figures it’s better this way, to do it now, when all their common obligations are over, because then it won’t be weird if Andrew says no. If he says no, they won’t have to see each other again. But Jesse’s fairly sure Andrew won’t say no, so he tries not to think about it. To be fair, the biggest reason he tries not to think about it is because he gets a small panic attack when he does, so it’s, he just, he tries hard not to go there. 

He and Andrew are supposed to meet up outside of the Starbucks on the corner of Jesse’s block, and Jesse’s nervous, and he’s ready several minutes before he needs to leave, so he spends them smoothing down his shirt and dragging fingers through the curls on his head and generally worrying about his appearance.

He’s not satisfied, he never his, but Andrew still lights up when he sees him, and waves.

“Jesse!” he exclaims, happily, and throws his arms around Jesse in a familiar hug. “It’s good to see you,” he says, his smile warm.

“It’s great to see you too,” Jesse responds, having a bit of trouble finding the words. “Andrew, there’s something I really---”

“Wait,” Andrew interrupts, smiling even bigger. “There’s someone I want you to meet.” He turns around, and Jesse spots a girl standing few feet behind Andrew, looking a bit nervous. Oh no. This is, this is not happening. This is so not happening. But hey, reality check, it is happening, because Jesse’s life officially fucking sucks, and-

“This is my girlfriend,” Andrew says, smile still impossibly wide on his face, and Jesse can’t _not_ be happy for him when he looks like this, and he’s a goddamn _actor_ , so he smiles, and extends his hand, and greets her, and they talk, and Jesse’s world crumbles.

_**end.** _


End file.
